


Lost Souls

by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER



Category: Bloodborne, Dark Souls, Dark Souls II, Dark Souls III, Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 20:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18948397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER/pseuds/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: A collection of scenarios and one-shots for the Dark Souls series, Bloodborne, and Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice!





	1. Reason To Live

[Knight Solaire x Undead!Reader]

 

_Shadows..._

The silhouettes of charred trees stretched out their willowy arms to the clouded heavens, mirroring your own abysmal want for solace and guidance from any providence that would care to listen to your pleas. Amongst the whistling of the wind and the sonorous rumbles of volcanic plains of Lost Izalith, the ominous cry of a demon traveled with the air's current and into your safe haven, reminding you further of your long, fearsome journey ahead, across this bubbling lake of lava. The hot veil of smoke carried with it a putrid smell through the long tunnel in which you sat, one of burnt flesh, rotted corpses, and the odor from demons lurking behind every wall. Even after the consumption of another Estus flask, a phantom scorching tore at your flesh from battling across the lakes of lava, refusing to ease you of your suffering. The penumbra of your armored form expanded beneath you across the bricked floor of the crumbling ruin, trembling and shaking with every flicker of the bonfire's erratic fluttering. What little sanity you possessed you feared would soon dwindle, but surrendering to now was...cowardly - no, an insult to even cowards. You traversed such great lengths, engaged in such vigorous battles. So close were you to igniting the Lordvessel that abandoning your mission would scar you with guilt and shame. 

But, the thought of enduring another agonizing death; burned alive, ripped apart, sliced to pieces, pierced repeatedly by swords and arrows, collapsing and shattering your bones....You grew so accustomed to it. Why now did It haunt you so? Did your mind finally process the sheer torture you put yourself through?  Were you questioning your mission?

Why did you start this journey? Glory? Power? Purpose? Obligation to fulfill the wish of a dying knight? Either way, it prevented your hollowing...

But, what was the point to 

But, why? 

_Why...?_

"Why....? Why....?"

Your fluttering heart skipped at the sun knight's soft whisper echoing your own thoughts. Solaire's head hung low, the licks of the fire reflecting within the tarnished metal of his helmet. Through the slit, you noted his eyes, swollen, red, moistened with tears. After another successful fight, side by side, you hoped he would at least offer an enthusiastic word or two, anything to lift your sorry spirit.

He always managed to brighten any mood with his brilliant smile and jollity. 

Seeing him like this with his shoulders slumped over, head dipped, such a sight was foreign, and it twisted the threads of your heart into a painful, throbbing knot.

"After all this searching," his voice echoed within the cavern. "...I still cannot find it...Was it all a lie...? Have I done this all for nothing?"

You carefully removed your helmet, brushing away the hair sticking to your face.

"Solaire...," you whispered.

"Oh, my dear sun....what now?" he shook his head. "What shall I do?"

With a trembling hand, you reached out to touch his shoulder, but something-perhaps doubt-caused you to recoil. You bit your lip in shame.

"My sun....," his voice dripped with grief. Was this the same man you met back at the Undead Burg?  The ache in your heart clutched your chest greater than the claws of a dragon. 

_"My dear....dear sun...."_

Swallowing what little pride you contained within your exhausted form, you gripped his hand. The touch at least snapped him from his self deprecating state, enough for him to elevate his gaze. 

"Solaire, please..." you muttered, still attempting to piece together some pathetic excuse of a sentence you could utilize for comfort.

He stared at you long and hard, waiting for any kind of continuation - a complete thought at most.

"I...you...You...," a flush crept to your cheeks as you released him from your grasp. "Forgive me. I'm unsure of what exactly to tell you..."

He blinked for a moment, leaving your skin to crawl up your arm in utter humiliation. Suddenly, a quick breath of air escaping his nose, Solaire removed his helmet in one movement, then wiped away the grime and sweat on his sleeve. Despite the film of sadness glazed over his green eyes, he mustered enough of a smile to trigger a sigh of relief from you.

"I'm the one who should beg forgiveness," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Here I am, wallowing over nothing after walking away from a battle, victorious once more."

"Please, do not say it is nothing," you replied. "I....I feel similar doubts...I have wondered similarly along this arduous journey..."

His smile diminished. 

"What do you mean?"

Immediate regret slammed into your chest like a boulder in Sen's Fortress. Your eyes darted to dancing flames of the bonfire, and your heart skittered wildly within your ribcage. While the heat from the lake of lava scorched your body, it felt cool in comparison to the fire of humiliation blistering you. 

But, you continued:

"I....many times...have questioned my purpose on this journey," the tip of your finger dragged across the dirt, tracing little patterns within its red hues. "Whether or not I was simply chasing my own tail...if carrying the torch for a poor, fallen knight was enough of an aspiration for some nameless Undead..."

"Why do you speak this way? Surely, you're not-"

"No, no! I promise," you shook your head. "I just- well, I...I am just relating to your plight is all."

You watched his scrutinizing face for a second or two, hoping he would at least believe you. But, his wrinkled brow and frown indicated otherwise, causing your heart to sink. Your insides squirmed and writhed, wishing desperately just to flee from this moment.  The equivalent of this myriad of uncomfortable feelings mirrored that of a disappointed father scrutinizing his misbehaving child. 

But...why? Such a silly emotion made little sense.

Especially in the company of one of the few fellow Undead you trusted on this quest...

"I'm quite sorry," you forced out a thin laugh. "My comforting skills are not what they used to be..."

"Worry not, my friend," he replied. "As long as you refuse to succumb to your own doubts, you are victorious," he gazed at you with such a tender sincerity, your pulse nearly surrendered to the affection in which you were drowning. "At the very least, you are not chasing a fantastical dream like this sorry, old fool."

"Don't you dare say that!"

"Am I wrong?"

"I think you are..."

 

"Why is that?"

In this period of ponderous silence as you attempted to devise your next reply, you listened to the bubbling of the lava, a small indication of the expedition ahead: the searing of your flesh to the bone again...and again...until you reached your destination. the hacks and slashes of ravenous foes ripping you to fine shreds as a dried leaf. Heart racing, you glanced up at your comrade, who watched you with curiosity, a gentle curiosity. Slowly, the sharp claws of anxiety eased its clutch over your heart, as it always had in his soothing presence, much like the brilliant sun's rays peeking through a veil of fog. 

From the very beginning, after receiving nothing but pain and suffering trudging through the Undead Burg, he stood as a beacon, a safe haven, far more than even the bonfires you continuous respawned at after each death, truly a balm for your weary soul. Seeing the aura of his summon sign filled you with a joy no words could properly articulate. 

It was almost as if  the man possessed a innate intuition, always appearing you when desperately needed him most. 

As silly as it sounded, in a most ironic twist of fate, he became your sun.

 _He_ was the sun; _your_ sun.

Your face flushed the deepest of reds for merely thinking it...but it was the thought screamed to loud at the forefront of your mind, you could push it aside no longer.

"Solaire," you whispered, your voice barely bouncing against the walls of the tunnel.

"Yes, my friend?"

 _Hold onto your bravery,_ you told yourself. _This chance may never come again._

Touching his shoulder, without hesitating to examine his wide eyes, you softly pressed your lips to his. Despite the insufferable torridness of the cavern, the sweat sticking to your faces, the heat radiating off each other's exhausted bodies, the movement of his velvety lips against yours sparked pleasant shivers down your spine. Much to your surprise, he smoothly cupped the back of your head, opening his mouth to deepen this kiss. Suddenly, the feelings you harbored so long towards your guardian angel burst inside you as a volcanic geyser in the Demon Ruins; overwhelming but strangely relieving. Touching you by the waist, he urged you close to him, your fingers knotting into each other's hair. The need for air mattered so little until your lungs nearly collapsed in on themselves. You pulled away with a gasp and rested your chin against his shoulder, still unwilling to release him from your hold. Before any sense of shame could creep up on you, the knight nestled his face into the crook of your neck, easing his arms around you in a full embrace. 

Never before had you ever felt so safe, so at peace.

"By the gods, is it ever hot," you grumbled still with a grin plastered to your face. 

"Is it really?" he chuckled. "I didn't notice."

"You jest."

"Maybe."

Slowly, he brought his lips just above your ear, his breath provoking goosebumps to prickle along your skin.

He laughed, slyly this time, and said,

_"If I didn't know better, I'd think you had feelings for me."_

Your heart sprinted and jumped towards the nearest cliff.

Had that rascal known since Anor Londo? 

You greatly underestimated his perception. 

Cheeks still hot with humiliation, you cleared your throat, and spoke,

"Yes, well, we have much to traverse here. I assume if we-WAH-!"

Before you could stand, he jerked you back into a hug.

"I wish to remain here a while longer," he said, resting his chin back onto your shoulder.

You possessed neither the heart nor the will to fight him. In all honesty, you were perfectly fine with this. With a sigh of utter delight, you draped your arms about him once more, and closed your eyes.

Perhaps, even if your greater purposes faded out of existence, you could still find a reason to cling to your humanity within each other.

Just as he was your sun, maybe you too could be his reason to live.


	2. Comfort

[Knight Artorias x Corrupted!Reader]

 

_What a beautiful creature..._

As if examining a most priceless masterpiece, handiwork crafted by the gods themselves, you trailed your fingertips across the young knight's face; a tundra of snow graced the moon, tainted with pools of blood, and valleys of black and purple. His armor, tainted with the faintest hues of black, shimmered as the sea under a midnight sky, cobalt cloak ripped and torn at the ends. Despite his unconscious condition, the grip upon the hilt of his blade was one of vigor, concentration, as if he still battled ferociously even within his nightmare world. 

_So beautiful..._

Your eyes glowed with a most ominous glee, and a smile stretched across your mouth. 

As soon as your frigid fingers encircled his cheeks, he awoke with a strangled cry, shooting upright like a frightened wolf. You jolted back only a little but watched him with a child's admiration, as he jerked his sword from the stone floor. Though his left arm hung lax at his side, the rest of his body convulsed with vigor. With outstretched arms, you drew closer to the startled champion.

With his sight still clouded, unable to discern his surroundings, he inched away from you.

"Whatever thou art, stay away!"

"Fear not, dear knight," you assured. "All is well here."

In a moment of tense silence, his eyes, swollen and red, slowly drifted back and forth scanning the thick, woodland, coated with a sheet of mist. Alongside the rustling of the torrid, cracked leaves by a sorrowful wind, the distorted howls of infected citizens echoed banefully through the remains of Oolacile. He listened...and listened...before he sunk his teeth into his lower lip, and squeezed his eyes together as if an arrow pierced his heart. 

"My....sincerest apologies," he spoke no louder than an exasperated breath, as if speaking alone pained him to do so. "...But...I must...I must depart..." suddenly, he clasped his forehead with a wince.

"Where, dear knight?" you clasped him by his limp arm. "All is well here, I assure thee. Thou look'st to be in dire need of rest."

His lips parted as if to speak only to lick crusted blood crinkling at the corner of his mouth. Your eyes locked with his, and you lost yourself within those mournful pools of blue. Traces of mysterious, black fluid contaminated his features, his sword, his armor, and droplets of blood rolled down the contours of his cheeks. 

How long had time passed since you saw such a face, a face with an insurmountable amount of passion and emotion?

You grew so accustomed to your fellow magicians succumbing to the effects of that strange creature, what with their bodies slowly deforming, their mangled cries and laughter, mindless, incoherent rambles. Not even their sorcery could prevent the contamination the exposure caused.

Who was it they spoke of? The primeval man, they said?

Or was it the Father of the Abyss?

Ah, you cared little of its name now. 

You only knew of the endless amount of humanity it promised, the hours of study it provided, the experiments, the progression of knowledge.

Was it worth it all?

After all, you managed to elude its maddening effects, yes? 

Yes, of course! 

Passing days blurred into one endless day of wayfaring, obscuring, screaming in agony. All but one memory burned itself into the templet of your head. While staying hidden within the basement of your cottage, you watched the fall of your beloved city, little by little. As their humanity plummeted, so did their situational awareness, as they mindlessly wandered through the decaying city, taking no notice of your widened eyes, peering through the wooden shades.

A man stood before you. His name you failed recall, but the scent of smoke clinging to his form, his sharp eyes, the feeling of warmth bubbling in your chest when gazing at him still coursed through your being. Though dirt and blood patched his armor, the dancing of the torches still reflected in the bit of shine remaining.

"Stay here," said your beloved, sword and shield clutched between steadfast hands. "Thou mustn't ever unlock this door."

Your beloved...?

Those _eyes..._

Those same eyes....

_"Await my return..."_

Your mind revealed nothing more than an umbrage of the man; no distinguished attributes, his voice only a murmur, face patched with dirt and blood, eyes afire with determination. 

_Could it possibly...?_

Your heart clenched at this ever fading memory, a strange myriad of longing and nostalgia.

_Was this him...?_

_Those eyes...._

_It must be..._

_Who else would such a deep concern for your well being...?_

_Yes....yes, certainly...._

The titan of a knight quivered and collapsed to one knee, digging his sword into the ground as one might a crutch. His breathing broke into a small fit of dry coughing. 

"The spread of the Abyss....," he choked out, glazed eyes forward, gazing forth at his hazy world, his unfulfilled task. "Must be stopped...."

"Such a woeful state thou'rt in, my love," you placed a hand upon the cool armor on his back. "I beg of thee, rest here a while." 

"Please," he whispered, tearful, blackening eyes glancing up at you. "Run as thou art able...Save thyself...from...this corruption..."

Your heart leapt into your throat at such a kind acknowledgement.

To think after all this time, he cared ever still for your welfare.

"Soon...I will be consumed...," his voice grew low and graveled, its original tone"...by them...by the dark..."

Slowly, resting your cheek against his shoulder, you slinked your arms around his neck. As his body stiffened at the contact, you dragged your hand up and down his cheek, fingers dripping with a mixture of the inky fluid and blood. 

"Poor thing...," you muttered. "Poor thing...Rest, my love...rest..."

Gradually, his body relented, easing at your touch, each of his inhalations becoming ragged and labored. He surrendered what little will he clung to with every deliberate caress. 

"There, there...," you whispered, your voice warped and soft.

Your smile spread across your lips, and a red glow engulfed what little color remained in your eyes. 

"Th...ere.....th.…...there....."


	3. Vox

[Gilbert x Hunter!Reader]

 

_"Without fear in our hearts, we're little different from the beasts..."_

The words of the old crow echoed within your exhausted mind as you limped through the darkened streets of Central Yharnam. The arms of the horizon embraced the set sun casting light of golden, purple, and red across the hazy sky. The outstretched shadows from the towers pointed you to the familiar lantern at the most equidistant point of the city. The heavy ringing of the iron bell announced the passing hours, foreboding the ominous night. 

Having used the last of your blood vials, you desperately needed to return to the safety of the dream. At this point, even a simple, blood-crazed citizen could easily cut you down, and you cared little to lose the echoes of blood you collected to yet another death. Clutching the gash at your waist, struggling to keep your entrails from spilling over the brick pavement, you limped up the staircase, clinging to the iron rods of the gate, your only anchor to the living world.

"Please, still be alive," your gravelly whisper was drowned out by the squawking of a nearby crow.. "Please...Please..."

The distant towers slowly spun and blurred in your sight, and your ears perceived little more than a shrill ringing. A cold sweat dripped down your temples, and your muscles though cumbersome and weary twitched uncontrollably. 

Then, the old bell tolled, sending its arduous reminder that the hunt proceeded on....

And your time grew short...

 _"A hunter must hunt."_

Eileen's words always seemed to haunt you at the most inconvenient times...

As soon as you perceived the fits of rasping coughs through the candlelit window, you sighed in relief and sunk to the floor, back pressed against the bars surrounding the young man's home. The lantern seemed to flicker cheerfully at your presence, and a satisfying warmth blanketed your tachyarrhythmic heart.  That violent hacking emanating from the window next to you jolted you back to whatever remained of your senses, back to reality. In this world of chaos, this slow descent into madness, this small house at the center of it all served as a foundation, a sanctuary, in some ways even more than the Hunter's dream, though you would never utter such blasphemy.

Your legs to weak to hold your weight, you picked up a nearby pebble and tossed it at the glass. The fits of hacking abruptly ceased, and the filmy curtain behind the bars of the windows were shifted just enough for you to perceive the long fingers cradling its rim. 

"So, the Hunter's returned," his lilting voice felt like a breath of fresh air. "I was beginning to wonder if you would."

Your tired laugh quickly turned into a choking, fluid ridden hack, allowing blood to leak from the corner of your mouth, yet a smile still spread across your face.

"I was beginning to wonder that myself, Gilbert," you gurgled out. "I was almost torn apart there."

He took a moment to observe your condition, with a cough or two riddled in with the quietness.

"By the gods, child!" his force nearly caught you off guard. "You mean to tell me you've been running around the streets, barely hanging by a thread? Stop this nonsense at once!" the exasperation sent him into a muffled fit of coughs.

Finally, you managed a flimsy chuckle, and with every bit of strength you could muster, you pulled yourself up to the window in hopes to glimpse at his face. Sadly, especially with your vision clouding, all you perceived was the vague outline of a person.

I just....," your words trailed off into a long exhale. "I just wanted to ensure your safety, I suppose..."

He paused for a moment, then breathed.

"I have no words to express your consideration," the softness returned to his voice. "But, I told you not to worry about me."

You shook your head and swallowed the lump threatening to form in your throat. 

"Your cough sounded worse last time I visited," you explained. "You know, when you told me about the aqueducts?"

He made little more than a hum as a reply. No one was more aware of his gradual decline than he, and you tried your best to pretend he would survive. But, as the night progressed, and with each insight gained, your optimism plummeted. 

If only you could stay with him...If only you could stay and nurse him back to health...Could you? Or would the night ever advance? Were you wrong to wish this, being locked in time with him forever, abandon the hunt altogether? 

But, what would be the ultimate consequence for that?

By the gods, did it hurt to even _think_ right now...

"Lassie?"

Thankfully, his voice snapped you from your temporary existential crisis. After wiping your eyes on your sleeve, you peered through the window once more. Finally, you spotted the shimmer of auburn hair framed around pale skin.

Immediately, you smiled. 

"Forgive me," you mumbled with a quick shake of your head. "I...I just..."

A sudden click and creaking of the window latch caused you to gasp. Slowly, deliberate, thin, bony fingers curled under the rim of the window and pushed it up, just enough for him to slink his arms through as far as his current state would allow. Though you saw nothing in his palms, you threaded your fingers between his, fighting the tears burning the rims of your eyes. 

If only you could properly articulate the overwhelming, bursting sensation within your chest...A tightness welled in your throat. Your heart bounded so rapidly, you feared it would explode from the stress. You held your breath as you examined the roundness of his joints, the small, filthy bandages wrapped around his wrists and fingers. 

He was more than just a voice behind a window now...

Oh, how you pined to hold him in your arms...

"What afflicted me was incurable," he coughed, sorrowful eyes meeting with yours. So much emotion, so much wisdom hid behind those apertures. "This town...gave me hope. Their strange blood bought me time..."

"Gilbert, please...," much to your shame, tears smeared down your grimy face.

"I was most fortunate," he continued. "Unharmed by the plague of beasts, I can even die human..."

"Don't, Gilbert, please..."

Bringing his hands to your lips, a sob choked you, preventing you from speaking. While you understood this inevitable reality, the thought of losing your only anchor to sanity in this damned hellhole triggered a prompt desire for death. While you lost comrades you legitimately cared for, Gilbert was the first to secure you, to remind you that you were not alone in this living nightmare. His kind words of support and guidance served as a beacon to you as you wandered aimlessly through Yharnam.

Losing him so soon....just when you needed him more than ever....

Though you stopped to question your rather...intimate action, Gilbert neither reprimanded you nor recoiled from you either, so instead, you placed another kiss to his palm, then to his wrist. Quietly, he released an airy sigh, one of contentment, as if he enjoyed your simple signs of affection. You wondered when the last time he was ever touched might have been.

When you lifted your gaze, Gilbert's eyes were closed, head resting against the frame of the window, his breathing slowed without the interruptions of his cough. 

You ensured you memorized every detail of this memory, down to the golden hue of the lamp light glowing in his hair, down to the tenderness enveloping your pining heart.

"I'll return shortly," you said. "I need to patch up this wound before continuing, but," your grip tightened reassuringly. "I'll come back for you. I promise..."

With a short coughing spasm, then a tired smile, he replied,

"I believe you, lassie...I believe you..."


	4. Slumber

[Dark Sun Gwyndolin x Servant!Reader]

 

_The Dark Sun Gwyndolin..._

The last you saw him, he stood steadfast before his loyal subjects, his Blades of the Darkmoon Covenant, directing them with a firm but serene voice, to expunge the sinners from his beloved kingdom. Deft, nimble fingers grasped the golden scepter between his fingers. The rich, glorious arms of the sun reached through the towering windows as if to bless the boy for his enthusiasm, almost mania, for the great, incandescent father. Observing him in such a state never ceased to fill you with a sense of sorrowful pride. Adorned with his magnificent crown mirroring his deep adoration of the sun, clothed in white, the snakes slithering and dancing about the hem of his silk robe, he truly resembled a royal prince - no, a god - a true personification of power and elegance. While you discerned little of the chaotic, political world, simply the morsels and crumb dropped from the table of the elite, you comprehended his position, and you watched how it motivated him.

A futile, but admirable struggle, like a moth squirming within the entanglement of a spider's web. Despite his languished wishes for his father's respect, recognition, or love, Lord Gwyn refused to even glance in his despondent son's direction. 

After all, how could the moon hope to succeed the sun?

Still, the boy persisted, insisting that the moon too worshiped the sun, through the reflection of its brilliant light. Despite his affinity for lunar magic, he would only ever seek the blessing of the sun. Even if it required the degradation of his dignity, even if it meant his identity lost in the shadows of his older siblings, the desire, the obsession for his father's acceptance motivated him to protect Lordran, to please him no matter the expense. 

Even if it meant the shattering of your heart to see him strain so much to keep the pieces of his broken self-respect together. 

No more were you than a humble servant, but adoration you carried for your prince, you liked to believe, shown with a luminosity overpowering even the sun itself, the sun he so adored.

Night at last fell. Twinkling stars peppered the black parchment. The soft song of crickets and the sweet hum of the wind created a soothing lullaby for slumber. The deep blue blanket of the day enveloped Anor Londo, concealing the sorrows of the people below, cradling the opalescent moon in a mother's tender embrace. But, the young prince only observed as one might a painting and took no part in this peaceful world. A raging tempest erupted within him, one that elevated his circulation throughout his pale body. His snakes coiled about the limbs of the chair, tongues flicking. Despite the strange symmetry of his form, you adapted to the sight of these writhing serpents in place of lower extremities. As per your routine, you folded his gown of white and gold and placed it delicately into his bedside drawer. You arranged his pillows and pulled down his sheets and blankets then left a silver goblet of water on the polished table. The manner in which the small chalice glistened under the light of the moon brought to mind the haunting, glossy pearls that were the eyes of Gwyndolin: for a face so youthful, great wisdom, a heavy sorrow hid behind the filmy veil of aqueous humor. The sinking of his head, allowing his frosted hair to frame his face, the curve of his gaunt shoulders trembled at the burden placed on him by his father, the fate of Anor Londo, the perfect illusion of the sun, the order of the Darkmoon. Such vulnerability he only ever revealed in eventide, yet he refused to release his façade of prestige and grace.

But having accompanied him every night to assist in his evening routine, his pain could not possibly be more evident. 

Upon completing your tasks for the evening, you approached him quietly ready to dismiss yourself. The snakes quickly slithered under the frame of his seat as if they themselves sensed the anxiety of their master. You watched for any sign of movement from the young lord, but his head remained hung, eyes closed, fixed on the waterfall of reflections cascading towards the front of his mind. You reached to touch his shoulder but hesitated; you were a slave, a filthy worm in comparison to this sullen, ethereal god, and breathing the same air as him seemed sinful. Maybe just tonight, you would leave without warning, and let him his thoughts. 

Suddenly, his hand jolted out to grab your arm, much as a snake to its prey. Your heart nearly darted out of your throat from the enormous leap from your chest. Your mouth hanging open, your respirations halted, you analyzed his form carefully, attempting to predict what words he might speak: words of anger? Irritation? Frigidity? At least you were aware of his distaste for any sort of close proximity. 

Then, to your surprise, his grip loosened, and his cold fingertips trailed down to your wrist. Such a feathery touch triggered goosebumps to prickle along your arm. Your terror eased only leaving a small seed of curiosity to blossom. Head still lowered, he urged you closer with a tug of your wrist, and you obeyed accordingly until the top of his head bumped into your abdomen. Before you could recoil, he rested his free hand in the curve of your waist to assure you that this was what he desired. Heat pulsated through your limbs, and your breath caught in your larynx. The longer you gazed down at his hands upon you, the faster the gears of your mind whirled in a futile endeavor to process this situation. 

The god of the Dark Sun literally leaning on you for comfort?

Impossible...

Ridiculous...

But, you noticed the soft outlines of his vertebrae outlined by his alabaster skin slowly rising and falling as his breath relaxed. The serpents decelerated their nervous slinking, resting round his lower limbs, occasionally curiously wrapping around your ankle. The coolness of their scales against you nearly caused a snicker to erupt from you, but you managed to swallow it. With a deep exhale, you knelt before your prince, hoping that maybe he would meet eyes with you, but he only tightened his grip around your wrist. The wrinkle above his brow deepened, and his mouth pressed together as if strangling a cry. Seeing him in such pain was a knife twisting into your throbbing heart. After tossing aside all sense of amenities, with the arm free from his restraint, you embraced him. Like a neglected child starving for affection, he drew you in as he was able, nestling his chin into the crook of your shoulder. Because you always saw him as a beautiful work of art, a marble statue only to be admired from afar, feeling his heart beat against your chest, his breath against your ear, his warmth radiating from him, he seemed so much more real, tangible, 

...and it only fueled the love you always harbored towards him...

Delicately, you ran your palm up and down his back. It felt so wrong tainting perfection with your lowliness, but he craved comfort now far more than the dignity he so deliberately tried to conserve. His body practically melted into you with each caress, so much so that you wondered if sleep finally took its hold on the poor soul. Each time you tried to shake his arm gently, he refused to move. With a small smile, while still your soft, physical reassurance, you eased your way onto the soft velvet of the armchair, reclining against the red fabric. You caught a glimpse of his face as you moved, and just as you suspected, his face was serene, white lashes brushing against his cheek, lips slightly parted as he breathed. His nimble fingers, once a tight fist with his veins oscillating through his fair skin, now hung placidly as his arms rested about you. The ever regal prince of the Dark Sun slept as a child might, hopefully a dreamless sleep, a comfortable sleep.

Even if you could never grant him anything else, be it another arm In battle or a tongue for royal delegations, you could at least pride yourself in temporarily concealing him from the tortures of his own mind. 

As you listened to the solemn wind rustling through the dry, crackling leaves, to Gwyndolin's steady exhales and rhythmic heartbeat, sleep gradually invited you into her tender cradle where you would reside with him, until the golden rays of the morning sun would greet you for the coming day.


	5. Forever Night

[Knight Ornstein x Undead!Reader]

 

Beneath the shadowed light of the moon, shrouded by the magnificent marble prominence of Anor Londo, within the silence of the night, eager lips met each other in a fervent kiss. Curious fingers tangled into long, red locks as thick and majestic as a lion's mane. Powerful hands steadied a smaller body against the cool of the alabaster wall. With a sharp exhale, he pulled away from you and pierced you with smoldering, ravenous gaze, lips parted ever so slightly, curved into a sanguine smirk.

Such an authoritative spark glinted within those eyes of gold. His aura dripped with imposition, demanding your respect and attention as he towered over you. Even stripped of his lion silhouetted helmet and armor, his strength clearly resembled the proud beast, striking fear into the hearts of all who dared opposed him.

But, this cornered prey had no intention of fleeing.

Tracing his lips down your jaw, exploring the curves and lines of your neck, he delved his teeth into tender flesh, triggering a sudden cry from you. He responded with a devious chuckle, but your mind, muddled by the sensations, failed to piece together any sort of coherent response. Shrewd hands slid their way beneath your clothes, warming your frigid skin, applying just enough force to keep you pinned in place. 

After a hard swallow, you spoke, voice raspy and quiet,

"Your mockery is insufferable, dear knight."

Linking his arms about you, slowly tugging at your tunic, he kissed down your shoulders and your chest. A deep chuckle resonated in his throat.

"You may stop me if you so desire," he muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Tch," you tugged on his hair as teasing lips trail down your abdomen. "Rather presumptuous of you."

"Mm, Lord Gwyn appointed me as Captain of the Guard for a reason," causing you to gasp, he slid his tongue up the curves and dips of your ribs and sternum. "Shall I remind you of that?"

Before your mind could piece together a clever response, he sunk his teeth into the skin of your waist, just above your still clothed hips. Much to his surprise, you cried out but no longer with pleasure. Even more alarming, you clutched yourself, hunched over, gripped tightly to his shoulder. Golden eyes wide, he held you up carefully and slowly lead you to the floor.

"What is the matter?" he asked as he examined your body for cuts, bruises, or burns. "Are you injured?"

The stinging surged through you like a wave beating against the shore. As you licked your lips, you shook your head and forced a tired smile.

"Worry not for me, Ornstein," you assured him. "I promise I am alright." 

His mouth tightened, and brows hardened. Grasping your wrists, he forcefully moved your hands from your hip, and stripped your tunic away from the lesions. To his dismay, the wound festered deep into the tissues. Small blisters peppered around the damaged area, and a waxy film coated the center. You winced and sharply inhaled as he carefully removed the bandage falling loose. 

Ornstein's winced as if an arrow struck his heart. He understood these injuries better than anyone.

_A burn...Did you cross paths with...a dragon, perhaps? No, surely not...Such a notion was impossible...then again....Is this why you returned so late into the day? Damn, what would have happened if....if..._

All rational thoughts meshed together into a hot, pool of anger bubbling in his chest. Why did you not speak of this to him? Was it to avoid his long lectures of safety? Was it to prevent the immense amount of concern sure to follow? Naturally, thoughts depicting the alternate realities of your fiery demises played at the forefront of his mind, causing his stomach to twist and turn.

_What if...?_

He stopped himself before that endless cycle of torturous ruminations trapped him.

You survived.

You may not have returned unscathed, but you endured. Though tiny, especially in comparison to him, you possessed a determination he himself envied. Not even a dance with death itself swayed you from your missions. To you, no battle was unachievable, no matter how difficult or grueling it proved to be.

Your head drooped, hair framing around your face, much like a child caught in a mischievous act.

He supposed, just this once, he would spare you another long, drawn out sermon detailing safety precautions on the battlefield. Gathering your cloak, he carefully draped it around your bare shoulders. Just as you glanced up, he deliberately lifted you from the ground and carried you to his room from his small balcony. 

"Ornstein, wha-"

"The longer such a wound advances untreated," he explained, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a smirk. "The worse it becomes. Surely, you were aware."

Your mouth hung open, but you formed no reply. A flush crept to your cheeks, and you glanced away from his electric gaze. Tickled by your childlike reaction, his eyes softened and smile broadened as he set you at the side of his bed. As he left you in search of supplies, you clutched his blanket of a crimson velvet and tightened it about your shivering form. Without the warmth of the sensual contact, the chill of the night air finally settled into your body. You observed the Lion knight's every move: removing a golden bottle and filled a mug with cold water from a pitcher of pewter. 

You raised a brow.

"Would not just drinking the Estus work more effectively?" you grumbled.

As he set the supplies on the floor and knelt before you, he handed you the water, and replied,

"I would prefer it if you trusted my methods." 

You simply pursed your lips and sipped the water upon his urging. Suddenly, a chilling, wet pain, like icicles stabbing through your body. 

"Ah-!" you shouted and gripped his arm. "What is that-?!"

"Placing the solution from on Estus flask on the effected area quickens local healing I found," he explained. 

As you held your breath, tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

"It...," you swallowed. "It burns..."

He placed his free hand on the top of your thigh, allowing you to clasp it as tightly as you possibly could.

"I discovered this method in my early years as a knight," his thumb softly stroked the back of your hand. "I found it quite handy when my men and I depleted the majority of our supplies."

As you held your breath, you simply nodded. Slowly, the pain dissipated, and you breathed painstakingly gradual. Once Ornstein removed the cloth from your injured side, only a bit of reddened skin remained in place of the blistered, puss-covered flesh. Despite the faint, residual biting left behind, your once pounding pulse slowed, and the strain in your muscles diminished. 

At last... _relief._

Ever since you returned to the abandoned city, you struggled to suppress the agony you endured while still hiding your agony from the ever insightful Ornstein. Instigating a secluded rendezvous with him may have been a less intelligent decision on your part. On the other hand, it proved to be more of a blessing in disguise. Had it not been for your idiocy, you would be in your own room, writhing in pain, unable to find peace or sleep. 

As he returned his supplies to his dark, wooden cabinets, you rested your head against the pillow. 

"Thank you so much for that, Ornstein," you practically whispered. "Forgive me for hiding this from you. I just...."

"I would never doubt your ability," he sat at the edge of the bed and rested his hand atop your arm. "You have returned, and you are well. Even a most seasoned warrior falters."

"I would have just resurrected, you know quite well."

He remained silent for a moment or two, digesting your words, attempting to piece together a proper response. 

"Each death means losing a little more of your sanity," he said, inching a little close to your face. "I know not what I would do if you...."

_Of course..._

"I understand, dear Ornstein...," you muttered. "I apologize for upsetting you so..."

As he shook his head, you gazed up at him with a smile, and he delicately took your hand and kissed it.

"I certainly ruined the romantic atmosphere, did I not?" you laughed softly. 

"Ah, don't concern yourself over it, my dear," he reclined at your side and pulled you a close to his chest. "Give yourself a little time to rest."

The warmth radiating off his body, the musky scent, the silvery light illuminating the long, vermillion waterfall cascading over his shoulders: to think this magnificent lion, the Dragonslayer revered by all of Lordran, chose you, a nameless Undead with little to offer in skill or strength.

But, with the Anor Londo, the wondrous city of the gods, tearing at the seams, with the illusion of Gwynevere shattered, and the shadow of twilight covering the land, you supposed both your own service and his ranking as captain mattered little in the grand scheme of things. 

What did this mean for you...? _For him?_

As you stared into his serene, sleeping face, the ache In your heart floated away as a dried leaf in the wind. No matter the fate of the city, wherever he ventured, you would follow close at his heals.

Even when the fire faded once and for all, even if you died time and time again, he would light your way back to the light, a streak of lightning in the stormy night, pointing you to your path.

Just as a comforting haze of sleep settled over you, a low, rumble of thunder bellowed in the distance....


	6. Chase

[Creighton x Bearer of the Curse!Reader]

 

"Back for more, are ya?"

You sunk your teeth into your cracked, bleeding lips and dug your nails into scarred flesh, leaving red indentations behind.

"No, of course not," you grunted as you pushed against a heavy force, pinning you to the ground. "I just want my damn ring back."

Upon gazing into those ice cold eyes and at that twisted, cocky smirk, your stomach churned. 

Such a repulsive excuse of a man, an utterly contemptible beast with hands tainted with innocent blood...

Then, why in the name of the blessed gods were you here in this abandoned shack, clothes disheveled, limbs tangled, and hands delving into places meant to be kept secret?

_Again?_

When would you learn?

When would you finally put an end to this destructive habit?

"You're sure going through a lot of trouble for a ring you've got no use for," his chilling voice brushed against the shell of your ear, allowing an undeniable wave of pleasure to engulf.

_Utterly repulsive..._

A yelp tore from your throat as he buried his face into your neck, burrowing his teeth deep into your skin, the pain like a surge of fire throughout your body. The dark chuckle resonating in his throat triggered goosebumps to prickle along your arm. 

"Hmm, that'll leave a nasty scar...," he murmured, tracing his lips along your jaw.

While you attempted to mask the ravenous lust swelling within you, you simply clicked your tongue and snapped back,

"You bastard. Give me that ring back. I earned it fair and square."

"And what use is it to you?" he retorted, gripping your leg roughly and jerking it around his waist. "You've got no business with it."

"Because I-Ahh-!"

Before you could reply, he practically forced himself into you and left you utterly breathless against the cold, stone floor. He moaned almost in approval as his length practically dragged inside. Gritting your teeth, struggling against a slew of mewls threatening to escape, you grasped his shoulder as you adjusted to him. 

Damn, it hurt, burned even, as if you were being torn in two.

But, was it ever addicting, this raw, perverted delight, and only someone as depraved as Creighton could fulfill that need, one you preferred to keep hidden.

"Nng," he grumbled as he inched his hand under the small of your back. "move your hips up. It feels better."

After releasing a shaky breath, you narrowed your eyes at him, and your lips quirked up into a smile. 

"I don't know," you chuckled in reply. "I like this."

He pursed his lips and furrowed his brows. 

"Cheeky tart," he growled. 

"Sick bastard..."

Upon snuggly adjusting your other leg about him, he thrusted into you, violently, without mercy. Swallowing hard, sweat trickling down the contours of your body, you pulled him close, bodies flushed against one another. With your face resting in the crook of his neck, your mind fogged with intoxicating desire. Your nails dragged along his back, leaving trails of red and torn skin behind. Knotting his fingers into your hair, he yanked your neck back once more and pressed his lips to the skin below your ear; such an oddly gentle gesture for him, and you sensed your already pounding heart warm just a bit. 

Words did not exist to properly articulate how much you hated him...

But, you hated yourself even more, because you knew once this licentious encounter finished, 

you would be chasing after him again.

Be it for his company or that god-forsaken ring, you cared not.

At least you gained a little something from it.


	7. Wee Hours

[Micolash x Scholar!Reader]

 

This extended period of silence lasted far too long not to arouse your suspicions. Here you sat, actually absorbing the information from your text, with only the soft flipping of pages and scratching of pens to parchment to accompany you. Upon this realization, your stomach twisted, and your heart's palpitations increased ever so slightly. 

_How quiet and pleasant..._

_How quiet..._

_Too quiet..._

Mind now absorbed with this thought, your eyes darted about anxiously, searching through the long rows of bookshelves and tables covered with paper, cages, and jars. The light of the setting sun cast long shadows onto the Byrgenwerth walls, and every movement caused her to jolt. Your fellow scholars seemed far too occupied with their own pursuits of learning to bother themselves with the world outside. 

But, you sat, tense and alert...waiting...

Waiting for.... _the sound..._

The earth-shattering, jarring sound of-

"Oh ho! There you are!"

You felt the gaze of everyone avert to your direction, yet you remained glued to your book. Slowly, you sunk into your chair, hoping, by the mercy of the Great Ones, you would melt into its cushion and disappear altogether. 

Internally, you pleaded for salvation from your inevitable fate. 

Alas, it was for naught. As a hand vigorously grasped your shoulder, you witnessed doom settled upon the horizon. 

"Why did you not alert me of your being here? I have searched hither and back for you!"

Your weary cerebrum mustered all of its efforts to piece together some feeble excuse or even a sentence to present. Licking your dry lips, you glanced up at the pale face of your intruder, pale eyes practically teetering on the edges of bulging and falling out altogether. 

"Ah, Micolash," you started. "I...well, you see...I simply needed some solitude to...," you blinked for a moment, as if your mind completely malfunctioned. The intense stare from his dark, sunken eyes never failed to turn your blood to ice. "To...allow my mind to absorb the material." 

Practically pulling you from your safe haven by the fabric of your uniform, he dragged you from the confinements of the library with every eye watching you with either awe or gratitude for not sharing your sad position.

"Well, now with me," he clapped your back. "You will study with twice the vigor!" 

Pressing your lips to a thin line, you attempted to create some sort of reason - something - anything - to rescue yourself from this situation, though you knew such attempts would prove feeble and useless. Wrist already trapped in his grasp,  your book fell from your fingertips, and you were jerked into the crisp, night air. 

"Micolash," you whined. "You know very well I care little to be interrupted like this. I finally started to absorb the information!"

A yelp ripped from your throat as he pulled you towards the edge of the balcony overlooking the gently, rippling lake reflecting the pearlescent light of the moon within its distorted mirror. 

"Forgive me, dear friend," he said in between excited laughter. "I simply could not contain myself!"

"When do you ever?" you replied, unable to withhold a small smile yourself upon noticing his childlike exhilaration. 

"Please," he held onto your shoulder fervently. "Humor me just a bit. Allow me to divulge these new discoveries! Oh, please, I beg you!"

You released a long sigh and rolled your eyes. 

You rarely possessed the strength to say no to him, especially when he attempted to emulate the sad puppy's expression. 

Not because his impression was all too effective, but because he would continue to beg and pester you until you surrendered to his whims. 

"Alright, alright," you flicked his forehead, and he blinked in surprise. "But, only if you'll allow me to steal your notes from you later."

Once more, he grinned from ear to ear.

"But, of course!"

"I think you and I both know this will take most of the night," you chuckled and draped an arm lazy about his shoulders. "So, I'm holding you to your word!"

"Fear not, my friend!" he patted your back reassuringly. "When have I ever broken such a promise?"

"Well," you shrugged. "you have a point there."

Taking your hands and sitting in the wooden rocking chair set close to the stone posts of the balcony, he leaned in rather close as if to reveal the most secret of information, secrets not even the Great Ones could possibly fathom. 

Witnessing his evolution from a filthy vagabond to a well rounded scholar filled you with such indescribable joy and pride, possibly only mirrored by a parent watching a child succeed. Even dwelling in the streets, he possessed a inquisitive mind, perpetually lost in a sea of questions. While you as his companion focused on surviving day to day, you watched him sinking into what you could only describe as a depression for receiving no interpretations or explanations to his constant inquiries. While you scavenged through the garbage thrown into the dark alleyways, he examined human interactions as the citizens engaged in their everyday life, gazed longingly into the tapestry of stars, speculating a world beyond, if higher planes resided far across our own little world. While you never quite followed the complex pathways of his mind, you trailed behind him nonetheless with a wide-eyed willingness. Hours you would invest chatting into the wee hours of the morning, listening to his extravagant, new ideas and outlandish perceptions of our human realm. Because your source of education deriving from your ceaseless abuse on the streets of Yharnam, you believed him. You wanted there to be worlds away from here that you could escape to if it meant a warm place to sleep and food to nourish you. You loved to listen to him, and he loved to talk, for it distracted you from the lacerations and pulsating bruises torturing both of your weakened bodies.

It was his words that saved you both from being utilized as another disposable experiment by the Byrgenwerth scholars. It was his lust for answers and badgering the scholars with thousands upon thousands of questions and queries that Provost Willem even took note of you. Micolash refused his offer of enrollment until you were ensured a seat in the college. Considering the little amount of philosophical discussion you offered, never did you fully understand why he insisted upon bring you with him, but if it meant your survival, you pondered it little. Never before did you feel the comfort of a soft bed, or the security of a locked room, or the fullness of a good meal, you cared little for the higher education offered by the school. Certainly, you enjoyed learning, especially at the side of your enthusiastic comrade, but you found contentment in the simpler things you were deprived of as a child.

But, Micolash.

Oh, dear, sweet Micolash.

Micolash instantly morphed into a hyperactive child waking up to an abundance of confectioneries of all kinds. He practically lived within the library halls, reading everything he could grasp, interrogating teachers long passed the end of a lecture, fishing for outside opportunities to engage in experiments. To have his life long belief of something residing beyond the realms of our own measly insight validated by these behemoths of science fueled his mania for knowledge, for learning. At long last, he found purpose to his once meaningless life. 

Listening to him now, you still saw that same child, staring longingly into the stars, muttering his questions and sharing his deepest thoughts with you. It warmed your heart with a sweet nostalgia, a bit of longing for innocent days. While you certainly never missed the grime, the smell, the constant, agonizing hunger, you found yourself remembering the long conversations between only the two of you. Due to his constant work with your cohorts, these talks between you two happened few and far between instead of on a nightly basis. Losing these times with him, in all honestly, left a little hole, something only he could fill. Because of that, you treasured these moments dearly and always awaited, almost achingly for when the opportunity would open for the next one.

"Are you well?"

His sudden interjection from the natural flow of his ramblings caught you off-guard, and you found yourself blinking dumbfounded with your mouth hanging open.

"H-Huh?" 

Finally releasing one of your hands from his avid hold, he pushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Your face hardened for a minute," his head tilted, and brows slanted. "Am I boring you?"

After processing his words, you shook your head quickly.

"No, no! Not at all!" you said with an awkward laugh and crooked smile. "But, I must confess, my mind wandered elsewhere."

He closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh, then released your hands and settled back into his chair. 

"I see," he mumbled, lowering his gaze.

"Micolash," you clasped his hand this time and pat it reassuringly. "I promise I hold no apathy for your discoveries. I was simply feeling," you paused before settling on the right word. "sentimental, I suppose."

Glancing back up at you, he quirked a brow until you pointed to the clear night sky and the moon glowing brilliantly over the horizon. 

"Do you recall our rather...humbling beginnings?" you asked with a grin. "How we would spend evenings like this fantasizing about presences beyond this domain?"

The disappointment in his face melted away, replaced with a most gentle smile. 

"How could I forget?"

"As silly as it sounds," though you felt heat creep to the rims of your ears, you continued. "since I see you so little these days, moments like this just...overwhelm me with wistfulness." 

"No," he replied, curling a finger over his lip. "That isn't silly at all."

"I think about those times often," you continued and leaned back into your chair. "Especially before I sleep..."

"As do I...," he practically whispered. "As do I..."

Your eyes drifted over to him. The white light of the moon shimmered in his hair as it framed about his face and illuminated his pale skin. His crystalline, blue eyes, now heavy with thought, gazed beyond the rippling lake, possible gazing back into the aforementioned simpler times. His long, slender fingers remained encircled about your own as he rested his elbow into the curved armchair, and he delicately rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. 

How long had it been since you felt such comfort, the security of your childhood friend so close to your side, the warmth of human contact...  
You sensed a twinge in your heart as you wondered when such a opportunity would present itself again...how deep would he dive into his ocean of studies that he would remember to resurface and visit? Could you plunge in after him? Could your mind even wrap around the eldritch knowledge only eyes lining the wrinkles of the brain could comprehend? How much insight would such a pursuit require? 

"The great lake, clouded by grime...," he suddenly muttered to himself.

You cocked your head at him.

"What was that, Micolash?" 

His eyes were closed and breathing slow and steady. Might he have fallen asleep?"

"The bell...I hear prayers..."

But, the resonant toll of the bell hung silently within the cold, night air.

Surely, he must have been dreaming.

At least, you thought so, until his eyes opened and darted over to you. You watched him cautiously, waiting...

His face relaxing and crooked smile returning, Micolash trapped his hand into both of his own and drew it close to his face. 

"My dear friend," he said. "Dear, kindred spirit, I have impeded you long enough from your studies."

You simply stared at him unsure of how to process his seemingly random actions. 

First, a trance like state, now awake and alert? 

You knew better than anyone of his eccentricities...but even this seemed a little strange for him.

Before you pursued your musings any further, he continued to speak, 

"We should establish more times to spend together," he continued. "I pass by you so much in the library and the halls, yet never take the chance just to converse, just as we used to." 

Shaking your head as if to toss away the anxiety, you nodded.

"I would love that, Micolash," you replied. "I always love staying awake to chat."

In a period of silence, he looked into you, profound, foreboding anguish lurking behind his sunken, cerulean eyes. You witnessed this once before, as a child, starved, pining for learning, for knowledge, but not even to this level. Though difficult to pinpoint, you sensed...a mania, a ravenous avarice chained down, waiting, watching...for the right moment....

"Tomorrow then?" he asked, brushing pieces of hair from your eyes. "Same time?"

"Ah," you closed your eyes for a second and readjusted your thought process. "That would work just fine. I'll finish my last exam by that point."

"Perfect," his voice raised no louder than a whisper, head dipped to his chest, and hands trembling ever so slightly. 

Not often did you see your friend in such a somber state, and while you longed for his company, you dreaded what insight his words might bring...

...and what secrets he held behind his smile...

_"There's...still so much to tell..."_


End file.
